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Monday, October 20, 2014

The New York Times and USA Today bestselling Marked Men series continues with this sizzling, sexy story of love, heartbreak, fate, and second chances.

About ROWDY:

After the only girl he ever loved told him that he would never be enough, Rowdy St. James knocked the Texas dust off his boots and set out to live up to his nickname. A good ol’ boy looking for good times and good friends, Rowdy refuses to take anything too seriously, especially when it comes to the opposite sex. Burned by love once, he isn’t going to let himself trust a woman again. But that’s before his new co-worker arrives, a ghost from the past who’s suddenly making him question every lesson he ever learned.

Salem Cruz grew up in house with too many rules and too little fun—a world of unhappiness she couldn’t wait to forget. But one nice thing from childhood has stayed with her; the memory of the sweet, blue-eyed boy next door who’d been head over heels in love with her little sister.

Now, fate and an old friend have brought her and Rowdy together, and Salem is determined to show him that once upon a time he picked the wrong sister. A mission that is working perfectly—until the one person that ties them together appears, threatening to tear them apart for good.

EXCERPT:

WHEN I PUT THE key he had given me in the door to his apartment it felt like the end of a long journey. Really it was only a little over twelve hours and I had stopped to nap once along the way, but it still felt like too long since I had seen his face or been able to touch all that toned and tattooed skin. Jimbo greeted me at the door when I pushed it open. His tongue lolled out of his mouth and he jumped up and put his paws on my legs. He was going to be huge when he finally grew into his fuzzy body and I was overwhelmed at how happy I was to see him. I dropped to my knees and rubbed my face in his neck as he licked me all over my face. I was obviously missed and I had to say it was just one more reason I knew I was finally where I was supposed to be. It was late, so the apartment was dark.

I checked the dog’s food and water, trying to be quiet in case Rowdy was already asleep. I was winding my way toward his bedroom when a haphazardly discarded sketch pad lying on the couch caught my eye in the dim light. I paused for a minute to pick it up and felt my heart stop and then start to race as I flipped through the first few pages. There were a couple of drawings that were obviously for clients, tattoos that hadn’t made it from paper to skin yet, but most of the pristine white pages were covered with images wearing my face. There was mermaid me, and naughty- sailor- girl me. There was sassy Indian girl me with long Pocahontas braids and there was sexy devil me standing next to angelic me. There were dozens of them all in different shapes and sizes, but every single image was undoubtedly modeled after my distinct look. I wasn’t sure if he had drawn them all over this last week while I had been gone or over the months we had been chasing each other in circles.

Either way it made my heart swell and the full certainty that I was it for him settle deep inside my bones. I set the pad down and tiptoed through the hall. Jimbo took one look at where I was going and huffed out a disgusted- sounding snort. The poor guy had learned early on that he wanted no part of what happened between his humans when they were together in the bedroom. The light was off and Rowdy was sprawled on his stomach across the covers. His blond hair was sticking up every- where and he hand one arm bent up under his head. The only thing that could have made the sight better would have been if he hadn’t bothered with the black boxers before crashing out.

Even with them obscuring the view, I couldn’t complain. I let out a breathless sigh and crept closer so that I could lean over and touch my lips to that anchor on the side of his neck. I felt his pulse leap and tasted the salt on his skin as he murmured sleepily and rolled over onto his back. Those infinitely blue eyes glowed at me in the dark as a grin pulled up the corner of his mouth.

Jay Crownover is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Marked Men series. She also introduced the dark and sexy world of The Point in a new series this last summer starting with BETTER WHEN HE's BAD. Like her characters, she is a big fan of tattoos. She loves music and wishes she could be a rock star, but since she has no aptitude for singing or instrument playing, she'll settle for writing stories with interesting characters that make the reader feel something. She lives in Colorado with her three dogs.

He looks up and I watch his eyes take me in. Slowly. They rake over me, dropping from my eyes to my glossed lips down to my exposed shoulders. Taking his time, he follows the neckline of my simple, yet body contouring sundress, lingering when he reaches my full breasts. I’m sufficiently covered, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t aware that the dress showed off my assets well. Tight around my chest, gathering snuggly at the waist, with a scant amount of cleavage. Just enough coverage to still leave something for him to imagine. And I watch his face change as his imagination takes off running.

His eyes drift down my legs, tanned now from the eternal California sun. Momentarily he’s lost in what he sees and doesn’t even notice I’m watching him leer. Totally worth the extra effort getting ready tonight, I couldn’t be happier at the reaction I get. Eventually, his eyes make their way back up to mine and I arch one eyebrow, letting him know he’s been caught. A normal reaction might be to look embarrassed or perhaps even flustered a little. But not Zack. Instead, he flashes me a wicked grin. “You look incredible.” He’s the one doing the leering, yet I’m the one who ends up blushing.

Vi Keeland is a native New Yorker with three children that occupy most of her free time, which she complains about often, but wouldn't change for the world. She is a bookworm and has been known to read her kindle at stop lights, while styling her hair, cleaning, walking, during sporting events, and frequently while pretending to work. She is a boring attorney by day, and an exciting smut author by night!

Dylan Scott is a New York trial attorney, wife and mother of four. She believes her job as a trial attorney is a subcategory to the field of entertainment more than law. With a Bachelor's Degree in English Literature she believed teaching English was a destined career choice until she realized her life long talent of "argument" could actually be her job. A recent, fairly boring, midlife crisis resulted in a brief stint as a middle school English teacher which confirmed that she wasn't ready to give up the law. Dylan has also taught legal courses at the college level and worked with at-risk inner city youth in the roles of mentor and coach. She is co-author Vi Keeland's biggest fan.

Sunday, October 19, 2014

Here’s more about Her Avenging Angel, including an excerpt from this paranormal romance novel.

Her Avenging Angel

(Her Angel Romance Series Book 7)

Felicity Heaton

Once a proud angel of Heaven, Nevar is now a servant of Hell, bound to a new master—the King of Demons. Consumed by darkness and driven to seek revenge, he set in motion a series of events that awakened the Great Destroyer, a force that will bring about the apocalypse. Now, he is the creature’s master and the fate of our world rests in the hands of an angel with only darkness in his heart.

Lost in the mortal realm without any recollection of how she came to be there, Lysia is only aware that she has survived a great battle. When she stumbles into a demon bar, she finds more than a chance to discover what happened to her—she finds a dark and deadly angel warrior who stirs fire in her veins and awakens soul-searing passion she cannot deny.

With the mounting threat of the Great Destroyer, the forces of Heaven and Hell against him, and a band of dangerous angels intent on capturing Lysia on his heels, can Nevar protect the beautiful woman who is light to his darkness and find the strength to save the world?

Nevar shoved the heavy stone door open and entered the bright crystal chamber. The jagged walls were brightest, blinding white that reminded him of Heaven and stung his eyes. They adjusted gradually, allowing him to see more of the room. In the centre stood a raised oblong dais of pure clear crystal. To the left of it on the floor of the chamber was a dull patch where he had spilled Asmodeus’s and Liora’s blood and it had soaked into the crystal.

He moved deeper into the room and came to stand over that spot, looking down at it and his booted feet.

Red still swirled within the layers of crystal.

It was further from the surface now. He had made a habit of entering the chamber each day to see if the blood was sinking deeper into the crystal and always ended up wondering if it was heading towards a certain point far beyond his vision, slowly working its way down each crack and layer to the Great Destroyer.

The Devil had been his usual cryptic self when Nevar and Asmodeus had asked him for more details about the destroyer, giving answers that provided no illumination. Nevar still didn’t know if the destroyer was actually beneath all the layers of crystal below him, or whether it was linked to this place from one far away that only the Devil knew about.

Nevar sat on the raised slab, swung his legs up and lay down on it, staring at the glowing ceiling.

Light danced across the crystal shards, reflecting rainbow colours like an aurora. Whenever he grew restless, he came to this spot and lay for a while. It was peaceful and soothing, and a much-needed distraction from his heavy thoughts.

Whenever he was in this room, he felt different. He could never put his finger on the why of it though. The only way he could explain it was that he no longer felt alone. There was a presence in this room that calmed him and filled a hole in his chest, one that gnawed at him when he was beyond the chamber walls.

His eyes slipped shut and he forced them open again, stifling a yawn at the same time.

Nevar rested his hands on his chest, over the mark there, and tried to track the brighter spots of light as they slowly danced over the crystals like fireflies. His eyelids drooped again, heavier this time. He struggled to lift them and drowsily stared at the ceiling as it spun out of focus, blurring and whirling together.

His eyes closed.

Pain skittered across his chest.

Nevar frowned and rubbed the mark. Damned thing.

He grimaced and then opened his eyes. The crystal chamber came back into focus. He had fallen asleep.

“Fuck,” he growled and sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the dais, and quickly looked off to his left, expecting Asmodeus to be there in the doorway, glowering.

It was empty.

Nevar huffed, planted his hands on the edge of the dais next to his bare thighs, and looked down at his knees.

The part of him that was glad his lazy master hadn’t caught him sleeping on the job warred with the part that snarled it was typical of Asmodeus not to show up to relieve him.

He could die down here and it would be decades before Asmodeus realised it.

The bastard was so wrapped up in teaching Liora how to read his magic books, and so wrapped up in her too, that he didn’t care about anything else, not even the duty the Devil had given to him as one of his servants.

Well, Nevar didn’t care about anything other than getting something to drink.

Deep breath in, and out.

He didn’t need to drink.

His stomach growled and his fangs itched, one baying for booze and the other for blood. He ignored both of them and slid off the dais, landing on his feet. He looked down at his violet-edged black greaves that protected his shins and his black leather boots. The crystal beneath them shimmered, light pulsing outwards from his feet.

His head swam and sent the room spinning.

Nevar leaned back against the crystal bench for support.

He didn’t need to drink, but he did need to eat. If he didn’t eat soon, he would pass out, and what use would he be as a guard then?

He needed to get out of this place and get out of Hell, away from the Devil who had made it his pet project to drive Nevar insane over the past month by taunting him in his head.

Away from his bastard master Asmodeus.

He needed some freedom and air.

He needed to fly.

He needed a break.

Just a small one.

Maybe it would make Asmodeus sit up and take his duty more seriously too. The Devil had banned Asmodeus from leaving Hell without his permission, and that meant the angel would have to ask his master for said permission in order to come after Nevar and would have to explain what had happened. The Devil would probably punish Asmodeus.

Asmodeus would definitely punish Nevar, but it would be worth it.

No punishment Asmodeus or the Devil could inflict would be worse than what he was already suffering.

He was starving, parched for blood, and unable to shake the quiet craving for a fix of Euphoria that had been riding him for what felt like forever. It drove him mad and he feared he would snap if he stayed down here alone much longer, and would end up in the mortal world hunting down a demon bitch.

He would deny both hungers, was strong enough right now, but he couldn’t deny the hungers for a drink and some food.

He strode to the door of the crystal chamber, cast one look back into it, and then pulled the door closed, shutting out the light.

He threw his free hand out in front of him, calling a portal. Black smoke curled out of the air and swirled like a maelstrom, growing denser as the portal enlarged to match his six-foot frame and widened enough to allow him through.

He released the door and focused on himself, using a fraction of his power to first reinstate his back and chest plate of his armour, and then cast a glamour that would change his appearance to mortal eyes. He dressed himself in black jeans, a charcoal t-shirt, and army boots, and masked the obsidian skin that reached past his elbows and the black claws that tipped his fingers.

He ran those fingers through the messy jagged strands of his silver-white hair, preening it back to ensure it concealed his small horns from immortal eyes. He hated it when people at Cloud Nine stared at them and whispered about him behind his back, and more often than not it was the horns that got them talking. The last thing he needed tonight was someone pushing his buttons when his fuse was shorter than usual because of the overwhelming combination of hunger for booze, blood, Euphoria and food.

He had the angel equivalent of low blood sugar right now and was liable to rip the head off anyone who merely looked at him funnily.

Nevar stepped into the portal and out into the wide alley in London.

The neon sign above the burly skinhead bouncer shone down on him like a light from Heaven.

Cloud Nine.

One drink, some food, and then he would head straight back down to Hell. Cross his heart. The chamber wouldn’t miss him. His master definitely wouldn’t.

If you love your angels a little dark and wicked, the best-selling Her Angel series is for you. If you like strong, powerful, and dark vampires then try the Vampires Realm series or any of her stand-alone vampire romance books. If you’re looking for vampire romances that are sinful, passionate and erotic then try the best-selling Vampire Erotic Theatre series. Or if you prefer huge detailed worlds filled with hot-blooded alpha males in every species, from elves to demons to dragons to shifters and angels, then take a look at the new Her Angel series.

Books in the Her Angel paranormal romance series:

Book 1: Her Dark Angel – FREE in ebook at selected retailers

Book 2: Her Fallen Angel

Book 3: Her Warrior Angel

Book 4: Her Guardian Angel

Book 5: Her Demonic Angel

Book 6: Her Wicked Angel

Book 7: Her Avenging Angel

Her Avenging Angel, the seventh book in New York Times best-seller Felicity Heaton’s hot paranormal romance series, Her Angel, is now available in ebook and paperback.

To celebrate the release, she’s holding a FANTASTIC GIVEAWAY at her website

Felicity Heaton is a New York Times and USA Today international best-selling author writing passionate paranormal romance books. In her books, she creates detailed worlds, twisting plots, mind-blowing action, intense emotion and heart-stopping romances with leading men that vary from dark deadly vampires to sexy shape-shifters and wicked werewolves, to sinful angels and hot demons!

If you want to know more about Felicity, or want to get in touch, you can find her at the following places:

Want to read the first few chapters? Sign up for Vi’s mailing list now and get a sneak peek! http://eepurl.com/0ABfr

Blurb

Two stories so deeply intertwined, you’ll think you know how they intersect…but you’ll be wrong….

Zack Martin

The day I met Emily Bennett my whole world changed. Sure, we were just kids, but I was old enough to know my life would never be the same. She was my best friend. My destiny. My fate. I wasn’t wrong…I just didn’t know how twisted fate could be.

Nikki Fallon

After the death of my mother, moving from my dark and dreary trailer park to sunny California, I was focused on one thing – finding a sister I’d only just learned existed. Falling in love with him wasn’t part of the plan. But he filled a void I never knew was possible to fill. He had to be my fate. My destiny. Until the day I finally found out who my sister was…and how twisted fate could be.

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Aldo has let that part of herself take over, drive her actions. I thought saving her from Bridge was my biggest problem.

I was wrong.

Something happened while she was missing. And it has altered her in a way that she is almost unrecognizable.

But she won’t tell me anything.

Instead, I’m forced to watch the young and naïve woman I’ve fallen in love with transition into everything I knew she could be; strong, fearless, and unstoppable. The problem is, she’s cut off her humanity, and coupled with those things, she’s a loose cannon.

She’s a savage.

My name is Daniel O’Sullivan and I’m in love with a broken woman. I will bring her back and remind her of who she really is no matter what it takes.

Sunday, October 12, 2014

October 13th is Thanksgiving here in Canada and I would like to wish all my friends and followers a wonderful day. In celebration of Thanksgiving I would like to feature one of my favorite people and favorite authors Rosanna Leo. Rosanna's latest release is the newest book in her Gemini Island Shifters. If you follow my blog you will remember that my Bestie The Bookchick and I interviewed the characters in the book and had a wonderful time.

I am thankful for each and everyone of you and invite you to enjoy

Predator's Fire!

I'm a huge fan of The Gemini Island Series and have been anxiously awaiting the release of this novel and Rosanna Leo didn't let me down. In fact, she actually upped the ante by adding high intrigue to the story arc.

We have met Killian our hero in a few of the previous novels but in a lot of ways this book could be read as a stand a lone even though there are characters that appeared in the previous books you don't need to know their stories to understand this novel.

AS expected Killian met his mate on at the Ursa Lodge, I think me saying they met and mated is not spoiling the story and this follows the formula of the other stories in the series where the wonderful characters is what makes them so different from each other. RL is a master at creating lovable, relatable shifter characters..but where this novel sets it's self apart is that it really ramped up the intrigue and introduced a protagonist that will take the entire series to a new level. This is a truly genius move on RL's part to keep the series fresh and create a bit more edge to it.

I suspect that the next novel will be Connor's unless we get to know more of the Hungarian Tigers that made an appearance in this novel. I'm so curious as to where we will be taken and hope RL ramps up the suspense and edge in the next one and of course name a character after me LOL....

I give this novel a 4.5 star rating and a HIGH recommendation, I challenge anyone not to fall in love with the shifters of Gemini Island. Give yourself a treat and meet your next book boyfriend..just remember Ryland is mine!

Tuesday, October 7, 2014

K.A.Tucker's new Adult Romance Series Burying Water is Released Today!!! Don't miss out!

The top-selling, beloved indie author of Ten Tiny Breaths returns with a new romance about a young woman who loses her memory—and the man who knows that the only way to protect her is to stay away.

Left for dead in the fields of rural Oregon, a young woman defies all odds and survives—but she awakens with no idea who she is, or what happened to her. Refusing to answer to “Jane Doe” for another day, the woman renames herself “Water” for the tiny, hidden marking on her body—the only clue to her past. Taken in by old Ginny Fitzgerald, a crotchety but kind lady living on a nearby horse farm, Water slowly begins building a new life. But as she attempts to piece together the fleeting slivers of her memory, more questions emerge: Who is the next-door neighbor, quietly toiling under the hood of his Barracuda? Why won’t Ginny let him step foot on her property? And why does Water feel she recognizes him?

Twenty-four-year-old Jesse Welles doesn't know how long it will be before Water gets her memory back. For her sake, Jesse hopes the answer is never. He knows that she’ll stay so much safer—and happier—that way. And that’s why, as hard as it is, he needs to keep his distance. Because getting too close could flood her with realities better left buried.

The words cycle round and round in my mind like the wheels on my speeding ’Cuda as its ass-end slips and slides over the gravel and ice. This car is hard to handle on the best of days, built front-heavy and overloaded with horsepower. I’m going to put myself into one of these damn trees if I don’t slow down.

I jam my foot against the gas pedal.

I can’t slow down now.

Not until I know that Boone was wrong about what he claims to have overheard. His Russian is mediocre at best. I’ll give anything for him to be wrong about this.

My gut clenches as my car skids around another turn,the cone shape of Black Butte looming like a monstrous shadow ahead of me in the pre-dawn light. The snowy tire tracks framed by my headlights might not even be the right ones, but they’re wide like Viktor’s Hummer and they’re sure as hell the only ones down this old, deserted logging road. No one comes out here in January.

The line of trees marking the dead end comes up on me before I expect it. I slam on my brakes, sending my car sliding sideways toward the old totem pole. It’s still sliding when I cut the rumbling engine, throw open the door, and jump out, fumbling with my flashlight. It takes three hard presses with my shaking hands to get the light to hold.

I begin searching the ground. The mess of tread marks tells me that someone pulled a U-turn. The footprints tell me that more than one person got out. And when I see the half-finished cigarette butt with that weird alphabet on the filter, I know Boone wasn't wrong.

“Alex!” My echo answers once . . . twice . . . before the vast wilderness swallows up my desperate cry. With frantic passes of my flashlight, my knuckles white against its body, I search the area until I spot the sets of footprints that lead off the old, narrow road and into the trees.

Frigid fingers curl around my heart.

Darting back to my car, I snatch the old red-and-blue plaid wool blanket that she loves so much from the backseat. Ice-cold snow packs into the sides of my sneakers as I chase the trail past the line of trees and into the barren field ahead, my blood rushing through my ears the only sound I process.

The beam of light passes over a still form lying facedown in the snow. I’d recognize that pink coat and platinum-blond hair of hers anywhere; the sparkly blue dress that she hates so much looks like a heap of sapphires against a white canvas.

My heart freezes.

“Alex.” It’s barely a whisper. I’m unable to produce more, my lungs giving up on me. I run, stumbling through the foot of snow until I’m on my knees and crawling forward to close the distance. A distance of no more than ten feet and yet one that seems like miles.

There’s no mistaking the spray of crimson freckling the snow around her head. Or that most of her long hair is now dark and matted. Or that her silver stockings are torn and stained red, and a pool of blood has formed where her dress barely covers her thighs. Plenty of footprints mark the ground around her. He must have been here for a while.

I know that there are rules to follow, steps to make sure that I don’t cause her further harm. But I ignore them because the sinking feeling in my stomach tells me I can’t possibly hurt her more than he already has. I nestle her head with one hand while I slide the other under her shoulder. I roll her over.

Cold shock knocks the wind out of me.

I’ve never seen anybody look like this.

I scoop her limp body into my arms, cradling the once beautiful face that I’ve seen in every light—rage to ecstasy and the full gamut in between—yet is now unrecognizable. Placing two blood-coated fingers over her throat, I wait. Nothing.

A light pinch against her lifeless wrist.Nothing.

Maybe a pulse does exist but it’s hidden, masked by my own racing one.

Then again, by the look of her, likely not.

One . . . two . . . three . . . plump, serene snowflakes begin floating down from the unseen sky above. Soon, they will converge and cover the tracks, the blood. The evidence.Mother Nature’s own blanket to hide the unsightly blemish in her yard.

“I’m so sorry.” I don’t try to restrain the hot tears as they roll down my cheeks to land on her mangled lips—lips I had stolen plenty of kisses from, back when I was too stupid to realize how dangerous that really was. This is my fault. She had warned me. If I had just listened, had stayed away from her, had not told her how I felt . . .

. . . had not fallen wildly in love with her.

I lean down to steal a kiss even now, the coppery taste of her blood mixing with my salty tears. “I’m so damn sorry. I should never have even looked your way,” I manage to get out around my sobs, tucking the blanket she loved to curl up in over her.

An almost inaudible gasp slips out. A slight breeze against my mouth more than anything else.

Born in small-town Ontario, K.A. Tucker published her first book at the age of six with the help of her elementary school librarian and a box of crayons. She is a voracious reader, and currently resides in a quaint town outside of Toronto with her husband, two beautiful girls, and an exhausting brood of four-legged creatures.

First in the new Silver Valley series from the New York Times bestselling author of the Reapers Motorcycle Club Novels

Fourteen months. For fourteen months, Puck Redhouse sat in a cell and kept his mouth shut, protecting the Silver Bastards MC from their enemies. Then he was free and it was time for his reward—full membership in the club, along with a party to celebrate. That’s when he saw Becca Jones for the first time and set everything in motion. Before the night ended he’d violated his parole and stolen her away from everything she knew.

Five years. It was five years ago that Puck destroyed Becca and saved her all in one night. She’s been terrified of him ever since, but she’s even more terrified of the monsters he still protects her from... But Becca refuses to let fear control her. She’s living her life and moving forward, until she gets a phone call from the past she can't ignore. She has to go back, and there’s only one man she can trust to go with her—the ex-con biker who rescued her once before.

Puck will help her again, but this time it’ll be on his terms. No more lies, no more tears, and no more holding back what he really wants...